Page 48 of Eloping with the Laird
‘They will hang me, Rory. I am sorry.’
He collapsed in his leather chair. Could it be true? Had she resorted to murder to free herself from her first husband? Had it come to that? He fisted his hands. What had her life been to resort to such measures? His stomach curdled and twisted. He couldn’t think upon it further. Otherwise, he would be ill or smash his study to bits.
‘What’s all this?’ Uncle Leo asked, his voice pulling Rory back to the present. His uncle stood beside him and stared down at the crumpled note.
‘I don’t quite know yet to be honest. It has something to do with this letter she was clutching in her hand when she returned. She was undone by it. Upset, talking nonsense and flushed with fever. Evidently, this is the note the messenger gave Sean at the castle this morn that Tressa passed on to her. The one she went into the village to try to locate and enquire who had sent it without telling anyone here her true purpose, which isn’t like her. She’s not a liar, nor is she secretive or reckless. But this...this note drove her to search the village and to stay out in the middle of a storm, so it must have some credence. But I cannot imagine it being true.’ He stood, unable to sit one moment longer. ‘Moira is no killer,’ he stated. ‘I would bet my life on it.’ He paced the length of the room and then stood staring out at the sea as waves crashed against the rocks, dashing whatever was in its wake into ruins.
Chapter Twenty-One
‘Moira, jump in. It shall not be easier by putting in one toe at a time.’
Ewan smacked the warm waters of the loch with his arms, sending a cascading arch of water droplets into the air. She stepped back from the water’s edge.
‘I can’t do it,’ she pleaded in distress. ‘I don’t know what’s in there and I can’t swim. I’ll drown.’
He laughed at her, treading water in his soaked tunic and trews. ‘You’re my sister. I’d never let anything happen to you. I might steal your puddings, but I’ll always protect you. Jump!’
The trust in his gaze made her run to the bank’s edge, close her eyes and jump in. When the water began to soak her dress and threatened to pull her under, his strong arms had pulled her up.
She slapped at the water, gulped in air and strained. ‘Help, Ewan. Help!’
‘Stop flailing about like a baby bird. Relax,’ he commanded. ‘Just float,’ he ordered, turning her on her back.
Moira closed her eyes and floated, enjoying the warm sun and heat on her face until a heavy hand pressed down on her chest, holding her under. She flailed, and grasped at the man holding her beneath the water, but he was too strong. She couldn’t breathe.
She opened her eyes and screamed, choking on the water as it filled her lungs.
Peter’s face appeared before her and she heard his voice. ‘I know you killed me, Moira. Everyone knows. You’ll hang, you murderer. You’ll hang...’
‘Moira! Moira. Stop.’ Rory’s voice became louder than Peter’s, and she flailed about, trying to reach the surface.
‘Please. It’s only me.’
Her eyes flew open and her heart raged against her ribs. Rory had his arms wrapped around her chest as he sat behind her. He whispered in her ear, ‘Moira. It’s me. You are safe. It’s only a dream.’ His familiar smell of soap and tallow soothed her and his solid strength and warmth anchored her back into the present, far away from the memories of the past and of Peter. She shivered.
‘You are safe. I am here.’
But for how long?her mind screamed. Her chest tightened at the knowing she would one day lose him and be alone.
‘Just breathe.’ His voice eased across her ear and cheek. She took in a breath and released it as her shoulders finally dropped and she relaxed against him.
They sat in the quiet stillness of one another until her heart slowed enough that it no longer drowned out the howling wind. Her gaze settled on the large bank of windows. ‘When did it begin snowing again?’ she asked.
She felt him smile against her hair. ‘Yesterday.’
She stilled. ‘Where was I?’ Her heart picked up speed and anxiety gripped her.
‘You were here. Quite ill. Some sort of fever from being out in the storm. Do you remember? I prayed you would come back to us, and now you have.’ His voice was husky and deep as he rubbed her arms and pressed a kiss to her hair.
She turned in his arms. ‘Ill? What do you—?’ Her eyes widened and she paused at the sight of him. ‘What happened to you?’ His hair was mussed, his face unshaven, and his clothes were rumpled and worn. She gasped. ‘Tell me you have not been by my bedside all this time?’
He smiled and ran his palm down the side of her face. ‘Then I shall not tell you.’
‘You did not need to stay here. Tressa would have tended to me, and you need your rest.’ The worry of losing him sharpened to a fine point and her head throbbed in pain.
He took her hand in his. ‘You know I do not sleep, so being here with you was the only place I wished to be.’
A knock sounded on the door. ‘Come in,’ Rory called without moving.
